STAGE 5 - Day 23 - Aberystwyth to Corris via Borth

And so we return to my the point where my dad left off in 1972… He spent a rainy afternoon in Aberystwyth. (you can read his diary at the bottom of the main page for the Welsh challenge) My day had the benefit of glorious sunshine, which makes me think that one's impression of Wales must be very weather dependant!

We both spent our time shopping here. I had 3 hours to wait for my laundry to be done as they were very busy, so I had time to kill. Having done everything I needed to such as buy a new hat (yes, by now I’d managed to lose both the hat I took with me and the one I found after losing the first one!) I had a dilemma. How to pass the time in Aberystwyth. Then I had a flash of inspiration. What would my dad have done??? Why ride the funicular of course!

The views from the top were great but I had to hide my ghostly pale white already-sunburnt flesh from the piercing rays of the Welsh sun so I didn’t stay up there too long.

I walked down the zig-zag pathway back to the town as the funicular, fun as it was, moved at the speed of a tired woodlouse, and I didn't want to wait for it to return.

I had eyed up a Hungarian restaurant called Paprika as a good place for lunch but they didn't open for 15 minutes so I went to a cafe called Sophie’s for a coffee for the simple reason that I was missing my Sophie.

I’m glad I waited for the Paprika to open because I had a great time there. It’s run by a lovely Hungarian couple named Sandor and Kate. After dining on a delicious feast of goulash followed by kürtöskalács (chimey cake) all wasged down by homemade peach ice tea and finished with a pear pálinka, I got chatting to them. Having been to Hungary several times now with friends I was able to speak a few choice phrases which broke the ice and we had a fascinating conversation. When I said I was raising money for a cancer charity he said no way - it turns out that Sandor is an oncologist when he’s not working in the kitchen! They are also an incredible couple as they have driven over 10 times to and fro between here and Ukraine to being car loads of fleeing people back to safety. He showed me photos he'd taken of some of the lucky ones and also some harrowing images of mass graves he’d seen there. What wonderful people like that that make the world a better place. The last pic is the three of us together!

I was sad to leave Aberystwyth as I couscous spent a few more days there having met so many lovely people and there's quite a lot to do there that I didn't have time for such as the apparently excellent museum. But onwards I must go.

Okay so my dad begins this section of the walk in a village called Corris which is where I am also heading to. But at the end of dad’s journal, after he’s done his big walk, he spent a weekend in a caravan in Borth with his cousins. And as Borth is only about 6 miles from Aberystwyth, for the sake of completion I wanted to see it for myself. I have actually been to Borth before, but I don't remember it as I was still inside my mum’s tummy at the time, and there’s a photo to prove it (that shall be posted as soon as we track it down!)

Here are my dad's impressions of Borth…

I arrived in Borth and was struck not by the town, which is perfectly nice but nothing overly interesting, but by the beach, which is an enormous stretch of golden sand with a stony bit at the top in that best-of-both-worlds way that Welsh beaches seem to provide (the expression that came to mind was “half-chips-half-rice” but that can be misinterpreted!). I decided the first thing to do was to walk up the beach to Ynis-Las as my dad had done. It was the perfect day for it.

It takes a good while to reach the end of the beach but it’s worth it. With the tide at its lowest it was very tempting to try to cross to Aberdovey. It did look picture perfect over there. Also wonderful were the views down the Dovey estuary, which looked positively prehistoric, as if pterodactyls might suddenly fly overhead.

I took a path inland over the dunes and spotted the train I’d be catching soon then walked past the holiday park that my dad (and I!) had stayed in.

Now I crossed a level crossing and took a path that starts by the railway then turns along an embankment that runs in a dead straight line by the river Leri right through the middle of the enormous expanse that is the Dovey marshes. It is a very beautiful walk along a very quiet corner of the world. I only passed one couple the whole way.

On the way back I passed a little chapel with a pet cemetary.

Back in Borth and time to catch the train to Machynlleth. Once there however, I had even less time to see it than my dad as I was hopping in a taxi (I’d missed the last bus of the evening) to Corris. We crossed the Dovey, up the wooded gorge as my dad described and he dropped me off outside the Old Vicarage B&B that I was staying in. Sadly Corris, along with every other town along this whole section, no longer has a YHA. I wasn’t complaining though it turned out to be the most luxuriant B&B I’d ever seen!

My dad’s night in 1972…

I was kindly given a lift into the village by the B&B owner Kirsty and had a look around. I don’t imagine Corris had changed in looks much since then. It’s still spectacularly situated and all the buildings are made of the local slate.

I found the youth hostel easily. It is still a hostel but a privately owned bunkhouse which is only accepting group bookings.

Next port of call The Slater’s Arms. They aren't as used to a sing along as they used to be though the owner said they do occasionally still get one! Apparently back in the day they had a piano in thr corner and did a rollicking sing-along, and Robert Plant from Led Zeppelin was a regular. It’s a great gnarly old pub inside and I had a very good meal there washed down by lots of local porter. Although there were no Welsh singing there was plenty of Welsh speaking. Wales were playing the Netherlands in the UEFA cup on the TV (they lost 3-2) and I was amused to note somebody complain about the BBC’s Welsh commentry being “like somebody that's only learnt Welsh from books not a real speaker”. Evidentally the BBC adopt RP for Welsh as well!

I had a good night in the Slater’s, and chatted a bit to some locals and the owner at the end. The poster in the hall made me laugh too. Funny to think my dad was once a teenager drinking in there too.